Merry Christmas, Cass
by Bakeddd Alaska
Summary: "What kind of sadist had thought to stick a miniture angel on the top of a tree?" Castiel doesn't understand Christmas, and Dean's really not that much help...well, not till Christmas, of course. Can be seen as just friendship/family or pre-Destiel. Whatever's your cup of tea.


**Merry Christmas, Cass  
Part One**  
**_Bakeddd Alaska_**

* * *

To say that Castiel didn't understand Christmas would be a rather large understatement. He had come to comprehend humans more than most of his fellow angels, but that didn't mean that he could make sense of their customs.

He could appreciate certain elements of this holiday. The lights people adorned their homes with were quite beautiful, the songs of the church choirs, and just the general warmth that resonates from a contented majority of people.

But most things left him bewildered. A snowman did not resemble his Father's creation whatsoever, and he was quite perplexed as to why a being made of snow needed a scarf at all.

Santa was just strange. A fat man in a red suit did not require those copious amounts of cookies and milk- nor could he deposit presents for each child of the world in one single night, even if he did have flying reindeer. Castiel had heard that many writers used drugs to find their inspirations. As such, he could not help but conclude that whoever had come up with Santa had been "tripping balls" (as Dean would put it).

Also, he remembered the birth of Jesus, so he knew that the Nativity scenes he saw were but distortions of truth. The Wisemen and the shepherds hadn't even _met _Jesus at the same time. Nor was he even born in the winter. He was also rather offended at how angels had been portrayed- he had always known humans held some bizarre belief that angels were loving beings created to guard them. But wouldn't their guardians at least look a little more intimidating? How had they so completely missed the true visage of angels, and replaced them with these harmless awkward looking beings armed only with harps and some strange shiny circular object hovering over their heads?

The way people decorated green trees with colorful ornaments, lights, and shiny tinsel...And what kind of sadist had thought to stick a miniature angel on the top of a tree? Even with the misrepresentation at hand, Castiel couldn't help but shudder at the the thought of having pine needles up his ass for the majority of December. He could not imagine it was any more pleasant for those tiny angels.

Even more confusing was how the Winchesters rarely even mentioned the coming of Christmas throughout the month of December. He was somewhat grateful for this; however, he often wondered why they failed to celebrate a festivity that the rest of the world seemed to enjoy.

He visited them after the completion of a particularly difficult hunt. According to the calendars humans used to track time, it was five days before the arrival of Christmas. Sam's snores were nearly drowning out the television, and Dean was sitting on a piece of furniture that only the most generous would call a couch, a beer in his hand.

"Hello, Dean."

The hunter barely jumped, a sign of how he had become accustomed to Castiel's sudden appearances. He still made a show of groaning, complaining, "Cass, would it kill you to knock?"

"But one knocks to gain entry- I am already inside."

"I- _ugh_, never mind. What's up, Cass?"

"Many things are above us, Dean, particularly the ceiling and the sky."

Dean buried his head into his hands, massaging his temples for a moment. The angel has learned that this is usually a sign of frustration, but he was still unaware of how he always managed to evoke that emotion in Dean.

Finally he looked back up at Castiel. "What's on your mind?"

He thought for a moment before he responded.

"Dean, what is the meaning of Christmas?"

The hunter paused, confusion echoing in those green eyes. "Dude, you're an angel. You should know better than anyone."

"But I cannot understand the meaning, or why you and your brother fail to acknowledge the holiday when everyone else enjoys it."

Dean let out a sigh, taking another sip of his beer. "Christmas was just always kinda weird for us. We were always on the road, and Dad was always gone...I used to try when Sam was a kid, but it didn't work out that great."

"So you gave up?"

"Yeah. I guess we did." A smile crept across his face. "God. This one year, we were totally broke, and I went out real early and stole presents for Sam. Which would have been awesome, but it was all girls toys."

"Your father did not provide for the festivities?"

"Nah. Like I said, he was always gone. It was always just me and Sammy."

Castiel cocked his head to the side; he had known of the unintentional neglect they had suffered from their father, of course. But all he had seen and knew of this holiday directed him to believe it was the one day that people surrounded themselves with those whom they loved. "But I thought Christmas was a time for family."

"Well, evil doesn't really take off for the holidays, does it?" Castiel could seen that he was closing up, as he so often did. Dean leaned back on the couch, away from him, his green eyes quickly turning from transculent to opaque windows. "And what's with the sudden curiosity anyway? You've been around for it before and you never gave two shits about it, so why now?"

"It just crossed my mind. It seems very strange, yet pleasant, all at the same time."

Dean shook his head. "Dude, I'm the last guy to try to explain _Christmas _to an _angel_. Talk about it with Sam or something."

So Castiel left in his usual sudden fashion, with even more questions than he had when he came.


End file.
